


Addicted & Alive

by divianamalfoy (Diviana)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 15:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/divianamalfoy
Summary: Or maybe it was that he was as obsessed, addicted, to the man...It was the only time he felt alive.





	Addicted & Alive

**Author's Note:**

> These are old fanfics migrated from my abandoned livejournal account. [1](https://divianamalfoy.livejournal.com/1961.html#cutid1) & [2](https://divianamalfoy.livejournal.com/2248.html#cutid1).

# Addicted 

His fangs broke the thin membrane of skin, latching on hungrily. Iron pounded into his taste buds like a chilly wave that escaped the ocean.

He never understood why novelist erotica-ted feeding. All of it was blasphemy since blood tasted like iron to anyone who tasted it, including vampires. The blood itself held no attraction nor was it the actual object of substance. When it came down to it, feeding was sucking metallic liquid into your throat.

The real draw and support of feeding was the energy that accompanied it. Incubi called it vitality which they drained directly through intercourse. Vampires drew out the energy with the blood as it flowed through veins of the human body. That was truly what gave blood its kick.

The force that flowed through Draco Malfoy’s veins had a stronger taste than the iron. It was spicy and powerful, sort of like a drug. Fulfilling was a good word for Malfoy’s taste, it cooled the dry, aridness of Harry’s Thrist more quickly than others did.

The acridness of anger, the sharpness of wit, the iciness of duty mixed with the tang of pride, the touch of magic, and the teeming emotions that swirled inside his pale body. A dull, mixed flavour of confusion weighted down Harry’s tongue.

The grip around his arms was loosening, warning him. Pulling another mouthful into his body, Harry detached his fangs. Malfoy was pale, paler than the first snow of winter in the countryside, and his breath as faint as frost. His dazed eyes were overcast skies scanning for something he couldn’t understand.

Gently, he moved the skinny body back to the expensive, fine cotton sheets. Then, he sighed tracing the nape of neck he had just fed from.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered. “Should’ve fed earlier if I knew I was going to meet Malfoy.”

At the sound of his name, the lost man’s eyes fluttered. Harry simply smoothed out them with his thumb.

Leaning in close, Harry whispered in Malfoy’s ear, “Forget what happened. And for the love of God, or whatever twisted deity you believe in, don’t come near me ever again.”

The last part was spoken without honey-dipped compulsion that was the reason Harry had gone undetected all these years. He should have compelled Malfoy to stay away, but he was too addicted to the way Malfoy calmed his almighty Thrist. As he watched Malfoy relax into a deep slumber he pondered... what if Malfoy was addicted to his bite?

It made sense yet it didn’t, since he couldn’t remember it. Perhaps on a subconscious level he wanted Harry to feed from him so he appeared when ever Harry was ready and desperate to hunt. A deep rooted attraction that could possibly be the death of him or Harry.

“This is the last time,” swore Harry to the nth time.

Stretching, he left the elegant suite Malfoy had rented for annual charity fundraising events. Harry had a similar, but more affordable one on the second floor. Glancing back at the peaceful figure, he promised again, “Never again.”

Doubt lingered in his words making them shivering on the -in. Harry never could control the gravitational force that bonded him to Malfoy - not as rivals and certainly not as only person who could end his Thrist, even temporarily. Or maybe it was that he was as obsessed, addicted, to the man as he’d been in sixth-year. 

# Alive

Harry pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose so his glasses would glide back into place. The circular spectacles were a Potter trademark he couldn’t drop even if his vampiric vision had no need for them. Even after he replaced the lenses with glass, it distracted him. Like a human he could see through the glass, with vision hundreds of times clearer, but at the same time he saw the glass - tiny scratches and warped areas that the naked eye normally ignored.

“Harry?” Ron questioned. “Mum wants you over for dinner.”

“Really?” Harry cocked an eyebrow.

The last time they’d invited him over for dinner the Weasley clan had tried to pair him up with Ginny. His ears focused on the beating of Ron’s heart as he answered.

“No,” Ron coughed. “Mum just misses you. Don’t worry we won’t bite.”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about biting,” Harry muttered, quickly. Ron’s heartbeat never faltered, signalling that he was honest.

“What?” Ron inquired.

“Nothing,” Harry blinked. “Is Ginny going to there?”

“There a problem with that,” Ron asked.

“None,” Harry stated.

As long as you stop trying to set me up with her, thought Harry. His barely beating heart thudded at that thought.

Ginny was a lovely person, but he wasn’t right for her. Hell, he could kill her without even trying to. He wasn’t even alive by normal terms. . . . The only time he ever felt alive was when he fed.

His heart would speed up to match that of his victim rather than thudding only once every (or every other) minute. Malfoy’s blood make his heart beat the fastest in the shortest amount of time.

The Thrist kicked up his throat at the thought of Malfoy. All his senses stretched out to search for the only blood that eased the painful hunger. Vanilla-scented, pride-touched, and power-filled smell of Malfoy drifted up to Harry tickling his throat.

He bit his lip in response as his fangs, the canines and the adjacent teeth, attempted to enlarge. They ached from imagining how it felt to break skin and taste satisfaction.

Willing them to shrink, Harry thought of his promise. Never again, repeated in his head like a mantra.

The scent grew stronger and more potent as Harry chanted until he could hear the footsteps just outside of Ron and his office. The door squeaked open and Harry jerked his eyes wide.

Seeing his neck loosened Harry’s control and his fangs gazed his cheeks. At that very moment, he wanted to lunge and drink greedily. Idly, he wondered why he was so famished... he’d just snacked on an Auror in the elevator no less than twenty minutes ago. He could still taste the dull iron on his teeth along with the bare satisfaction blood gave.

He clenched his fist and asked, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“You work breaking spells, Potter,” Malfoy remarked. “What possibly could I be here for?”

“What’s your problem, Malfoy?” Ron growled. “Don’t be smart about it. Hold the right to reject any job, you know.”

“I have black spots in my memory,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I went to St. Mungos to see what they thought about it and directed me here.”

“You think someone altered your memory?” Harry asked, softly. Fear was making his heart slow down so that he couldn’t even feel that singular beat.

“I’m not sure,” Malfoy scowled. “I have this feeling I met someone yet I can’t remember who or how. A void exists in the place of a memory.”

The words made his chilled blood turn to slush. Harry was so screwed if Malfoy was holding some memories of his feedings. But if that was the case it was his own mistake. . . . he had broken his own rules.

Never fed from the same person twice, Harry had avoided Hunters because of that rule. Since he had broke it, it might cause him to be found. He’d risked his peaceful life for a moment of contentment, of satisfaction, of fleeing joy, of feeling his lost heart, and of being alive.

“You sure?” Ron asked. “It could have been you had too many to drink or something along those lines.”

We got those a lot - people who believe they’d been Oblivated that turned out to have had one drink too much.

“No, Weasley,” drawled Malfoy. “I’m sure.”

Harry nodded, “Then, we better run a few tests.”

As Ron walked towards Malfoy with his wand, Harry could only hope his compulsion held strong. When it came his turn to run diagnostics Harry chanted, never again would he drink from Malfoy only if he wouldn’t be found out... not even if it was the only time he felt alive.


End file.
